The Wake
by Roselleoffthewallflower
Summary: Eddward is a vampire hunter who was born hundreds of years ago who is seeking revenge on those who'd killed his parents. During a moment of slumber in the woods he's noticed by Kevin who'd set up a tent and was simply camping. How will a normal human such as Kevin take to the very different stranger?


The navy blue sky was murky, filled with smoky, airy clouds that hovered across the crescent waning moon. The air was cold like ice and there was fog radiating all around. Heavy heeled boots of the reddish brown color were raised, one by one, before being carried over yet another puddle. The man's heels clacked against the grey cobble-stone groundcover, the weight distribution from his body only assisted in his presence being recognized. There was no one around, other than himself, to understand that he was out; searching blindly through the night.

With well-trained ears he'd earned from a former teacher he listened attentively as he walked analyzing the sounds he'd become aware of. Everything he'd heard so far had been no more than a bird, a mouse, or a cat. A few meters back he'd discovered a wandering dog. Unfortunately, the present night was beginning to seem to be like any other; one where his case would come out to be cold and he'd resort to turning back home all over again. There was luck on his side this night, however, for the previous day it had rained. Before him was exactly what he'd been hoping for; clues.

The waters soaking in the soil would aid him, allowing anything traceable of _them_ to be detected. Through further examination the cloaked male determined that the prints were so fresh that they had been made only hours prior. The man couldn't stifle the light smile that spread onto his face. He'd already seen a bit too much afterall. Briefly after the man's first boot had only slightly sunken into the grass-coated soil outside of the dark and foggy forest he'd visualized his one reason for his short journey.

Footprints, footprints had been formed into the soil due to weight distribution and the existence of feet. There were several sets of them and they were exactly what he had been looking to find and though his conclusion made the possible upcoming situation seem to be an unlikely one the man couldn't help but feel content. He also felt like everything he'd been seeking to amount into existence was finally about to be established. The comprehension made the venture he'd just set forth foot to create more worthwhile to himself. He couldn't help but mentally boast that his prior hard work was finally about to pay off.

Cheekily, he smiled before lowering his hand onto one of the many different types of specific weaponry he possessed that were strapped to his specialized thick belt. Minding the areas that were covered or caked with water the capped man stepped into the forest, unafraid of the underlying dangers it may discreetly hide. It was quiet and after a period of time in which fifteen minutes had passed the man was able to predict that he'd been creeping through the forest for at least a mile. He'd heard nothing yet, at least nothing that would lead him closer to what he was seeking.

There was was a rustle, then a snap of a twig, the man's head snapped to the side in his haste to checkout the area to his left. In his haste the fabric from the hat he wore made contact with his long jacket's material. Several more sets of trees came into view as did a few noticeably unoccupied spaces through the trees as he turned his head back and forth. Assuming it all had been nothing the man set his foot forward before lowering it to the ground all over again.

There was another rustling sound and the man stood still. This particular sound happened to be significantly louder than any other he'd heard so far. Well, except for the deer who'd crossed his path a few yards back. The creature seemed to be larger than those he'd detected moments ago. The man's head suddenly shot towards the horizon, eyes set into a fixed glare. It only took him a split second to have his gun pointed straight for the tall trees after hearing a whipping sound shoot through the air. No time was wasted, unfortunately a bullet made of molten silver had been.

Trusting his senses, he aimed for the tree to his farthest left and pulled the trigger. As the the bullet soared through the trees the obvious conclusion was reached that he'd missed his shot. Mentally, he cursed. Silver bullets weren't the easiest thing to have on hand. Willing his eyes to further focus, the man slipped two fingers into the hanging satchet attached to his reliable enhanced belt before plucking yet another bullet from his person.

He was already at the point where he'd negligently lost one highly necessary weapon, he decided against another opportunity presenting itself matching the one prior. Again aiming his gun towards the coated sky, the man held his stance as he examined his higher surroundings to the best of his ability.

Abruptly, a quick rushing sound was heard. From his peripherals few leaves of a branch clattered considerably and then, before the man was able to calculate a target to reduce he was flowing through the air. The sailing form came to a prompt stop as his body hit a rather thick trunk of a tree and the man cringed as his body was forced by gravity to slide down to the surface where it stopped.

Eyes twitching due to the pain he was experiencing he rose his head to meet his attacker as a few currently unspottable vigilantes dropped to the surface once below. Softly their sealed-in feet landed onto the surface, aiding the man in his deduction of just how many of the onlookers were to soon surround him.

From beneath the rim of his hat he peered up with piercing cold ice blue eyes and became face-to-face with the assailant. The one responsible for his assault had familiar light blond hair and solid silvery eyes that bore down onto him, watching him and his maneuvers curiously.

Clayton's mouth formed into a wide smirk causing two sharp canines to tear into the rising man's view while other eyes watched warily and quadruple others' hungrily. Given the obviousness of the situation the ravenette couldn't help but depict his alleged attackers as most definitely lacking in intelligence. It was he who should be warily glancing around at them. Easily, too, given the fact that there were six of them and only one of him. To solidify his conclusion he went on to assume that even with all the weaponry he currently held within the confines of his personal property that while it was feasible for him to take out one of them that the others were most opportune seeing as how quite a few of the others would be able along with have enough time to jump him before his next blow. The man was, unfortunately, no miracle worker and likely he would not sustain his own against that many. Tragically he was clearly outnumbered and that much he'd gathered.

That couldn't be blamed as it was not blameable, far from it really. But the man couldn't help but be one to blame himself anyway, that is if said opportunity were to arise. After the trouble they'd so selfishly caused and the trouble they had so inconsiderately brought him it felt almost normal for him to be blaming himself due to his failure. He had too much against those individuals, afterall.

"Well," the accented man's voice broke through the air with ominous toning lacing it, "If it's not that same little child," the blond trailed off, addressing the ravenette who now stood, clutching his left arm.

 _'The little boy,'_ a mind asked herself before squinting her eyes for a better look, ' _No,'_ no she told her in disbelief before further pondering the subject, ' _It_ _couldn't be.. Could that be so,'_ she pondered, intricately evaluating the situation. "You sure it's the same one," a familiar accented female's voice questioned.

"I'm not a boy," came the raven-haired man's exclamation. Afterwards, the man grinned, "Thanks to you, I'm a man and have been for years."

Another male voice laughed, "An ornery man," the brunette remarked.

"Oh, I'm positive," Clayton responded, "Looks just like 'em, both of them."

"I thought you said he was dead, Clay," the blonde woman commented.

One of the women took a step forward, simply to gain a better look at the previously attacked man. Before anyone could make a move to overrule him the blue-eyed man swiftly grabbed hold of his loaded weapon and thrust it forward to shoot the dangerous female brunette. His next move went unprevented. He pressed the trigger, causing her to be shot in the neck.

She hissed in pain a mere second before the man burst into action, leaping into the air and charging forward at one of the stronger looking males of their group. Clayton's eyes reflexed, understanding of the situation took place in his mind. He acted quickly, all too suddenly for the cloaked figure and took him back down to the ground. His movements had been too fast for the ravenette who was hindered on the ground once again. With the assumption that the one called Clayton could hold his own with that one man the others started slowly to distance themselves closer.

"You have the _nerve_ to mess with us," the man atop him angrily questioned with glaring eyes.

Mustering up a considerable amount of strength, the ravenette threw Clayton off, shocking his group members. As fast as he could the ravenette shakily loaded a silver bullet into his gun and shot at one of the surrounding beings. The bullet breached the chest of the silver-haired man. It was unfortunate to their hunter that one of the hunted was stricken only in the right side of his chest. There was no cause for congratulations as the blonde female leapt forward, taking him down in one fluid motion all too easily.

Her force had been great, too great for the raven-haired man who'd tried to resist her from forcing him onto the ground. He grit his teeth, his back already throbbing. Though somewhat hindered by pain the man willed himself to latch a firm grip onto her neck as he tried to stifle his exclamation of pain from escaping through his lips.

He refused to let that woman or any of the others understand just how weak he was. That version of himself had died all too long ago and he was not the same boy who'd hid away from them that they'd mistakingly assumed dead. After what they had done he longed for nothing more than for them to be cowering in fear before him as he decapitated them of their heads.

"You think you can do anything to me," the blonde asked with a smoldering glare aimed into his eyes. Suddenly, she shredded into the flesh of his shoulder and that part of his body leaked a profuse amount of blood, "You attacked my brother, for that you will pay!"

The blonde tore through his flesh, blood sept through his unintact clothes, pouring onto the ground.

"Now wait," the silver-haired man stated with a sly tone blended in with his accented voice, "I'm the one who got shot, I should get a say in this."

The blonde raised her head and glanced over, a glimmer in her mystical green eyes, "Waaait," she asked with a bit of a sarcastic sound lacing her words, "You want I should not waste the blood."

The blonde was met with a pensive look paired with a glint shining from his golden eyes. He smiled, evilly, and it was then that she understood.

The rest, excluding Clayton, of their group shared a glimmer from an assumption taking up their mind. During this time the hunter's blood continued to pour, weakening him considerably as he proceeded to struggle heavily beneath her retardation.

"Why don't we just kill him," Clayton asked, barely halting anyone's approach, "He wouldn't be a further problem if we did. We should just go with the smartest tactic and.."

"Do away with him as soon as possible? With wounds like these he'll die anyway," the blonde interjected.

"Then why would we ever give him a chance to live," Clayton shouted.

"I'm for it," the brunette commented, "If he does change we can have some fun with him."

"To play with your food," the one with silver hair asked, "Its a wonder you've failed to learn by now."

The blonde didn't wait for orders, she ripped away the cloth camouflaging his neck before she sunk her teeth into his flesh, two stray drops of blood increased in amount before trailing down his neck. Momentarily she pulled her teeth from his neck before looking him in his dulling eyes.

"If you do not die you will turn to that which you hate," she informed as the blood pooled near his collar bone, "If you are to turn.."

"Which is extremely rare," Clayton stated after shaking his head disappointedly.

"You are to experience the most pain you could ever think of in the entirety of your life," the blonde continued before she went to finish off the last pint of his blood.

.

After she completely emptied him of all his blood, the ravenette lay there in agony and as if petrified. The team of six left him there to suffer til he died.. That or the difference.

He moaned from anguish as he heard the very same voice of she who'd so ultimately damaged him say, "The best blood I've ever had."

After that there was only silence, grueling pain, and the persistence of draining blood adding to that which already had been emptied dripping into the pools of blood surrounding him. The vision behind his dulling eyes darkened and swirled before something now within his body began to come to life and take over.

It delved in his body as if devouring that which made the man who he was. For the next two solid days he endured an almost hellish amount of pain. His dead body twitched uncontrollably within though it was still while, though dead, he could still feel the arctic icy cold of his flesh. The whole whole he pleaded for his end, begged for it all to stop. All the while his internal moans were intense and severely excessive.

When the pain began to die down he sighed in relief and drifted off to sleep.


End file.
